Far in Time
by Paranormal Inkfish
Summary: Mona has been hiding from Abstergo for almost two years. One day three people show up on her doorstep and asks for her help. Unable to refuse she gets thrown back to a world she doesn't understand, to do something she is not sure she is capable of. She needs help, and the only one who can help her is Connor. Connor/OC
1. Chapter I

Okay guys, this is my first fanfiction. It's the first time I show anyone anything I've written, so I'm pretty nervous. Reviews are greatly appreciated.

It starts in the year of 2015, but we will soon get to 17-something. Rating is T for now, but will probably go up. I guess it's kind of AU, because the modern storyline never happened.

Disclaimer: Not mine and all that jazz. Well, my OCs are, and there are quite a lot of them in this first chapter.

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Chapter I

Up on my side, where it is felt

I pack a little pistol on my pistol belt

I think it might be fear

Of the world and the way it makes you feel afraid

Under the skin, against the skull

They put a little chip so that they know it all

I think I might be scared

Of the world and the way it makes you feel afraid

And how it gets in the way

_- Little Pistol, Mother Mother_

A shot rang through the mansion, and Mona cowered behind a very kitschy statue of an angel. The head exploded in a rain of marble. She doubted God would appreciate his angel had become subject to such a treatment, but in her particular position, she really couldn't care less.

She lifted her head and peered around the ugly angel, her eyes scanning the room. Six guys stood by the big stairway with six very big, very menacing guns pointed at her. They all looked like bad impressions of the Russian mob, which was exactly what they were.

She pulled her head back just in time to avoid a bullet whizzling past. Normally they would have just shot the statue and Mona to pieces, was it not for the golden disk hidden in her backpack. Instead they had to wait for her to expose herself, and shoot at her one at a time, with – luckily - not so deadly precision. But she had a feeling that was about to change. If she did not get out of there, and fast, she would soon look like the headless angel.

She did not plan for this to happen. Of course not, who plan for themselves to be trapped while six tattooed goons try to put a bullet in your brain. When she took the job, she knew there was the chance it might go south, which it did, not even ten minutes after she infiltrated the mansion. The little gold plate she was sent to obtain had been far better guarded than her contact had led her to believe. Mona could understand why. The markings on it were Aztec, and worth a lot of money. She would have felt a small amount of guilt as she scaled the outer wall of the mansion, had it not been for the fact that she was stealing it from a mob boss, who probably had stolen it from some other crook. At least she stole it for someone who did not kill people. He was just as corrupt mind you, with his greedy little fingers buried deep in the financial world. Practically every Ponzi scheme, every credit card scam would eventually lead back to him. Good guy.

Mona had to do something. The thugs had just successfully removed one of the angel's arms, and she was sure she was next. She poked her head up again, and spotted a partially open window located right behind the defective killer machines. She had to go through them, not a comforting thought but it was the only way. She took a deep breath and grabbed a piece of marble lying next to her.

'Don't shoot!' She yelled in Russian. She didn't give them time to think before hurling the marble to the left, praying to the deities that they would look at the flying piece of stone, and not Mona, as she jumped to her feet. She started running before her brain realized what she was about to do. Her hand went up, the one that was clutching the gun, and she squeezed the trigger. She felt the kickback as one of the thugs fell to the ground, a hole right between his eyes.

The others must have been too dumb folded to react, as Mona raced past them heading for the window. She didn't stop to see what was on the other side, but continued out the window in a leap.

The wind rushed past her as she fell down two stories, and landed in a bush with a crunch. She thanked her guardian angel (hopefully not the statue she had been hiding behind. It would be just her luck if her guardian angel had been popped in the head) and stood up, not giving herself time to catch her breath. The Russian thugs had without doubt shaken themselves out of their stupor, and were out for her blood.

She bounced to her feet and ran for the nearest exit, which was a platform raised high in the air to give the best possible view of the sea.

Her feet pounded against the pavement and her breaths were shallow puffs. The fall had driven every bit of air out of her lungs, and her feet hurt like hell, but she knew it would hurt a lot more if she did not get out of there.

A cacophony of gunshots and shouts could be heard behind her, as she moved up the stairs, taking three steps at a time. The edge of the platform was right there, barely a yard away. She felt a burning hot sensation in her right arm, the familiar pain of a bullet grazing flesh. The momentum pushed her forward, and she tumbled over the edge, in what must have been the least elegant jump in the history of the world. Arms and legs flailing everywhere she closed her eyes waiting for the cold water to surround her, praying for what seemed like the hundredth time today, the water was deep enough, that she would not be crushed on the rocks.

The cold water almost paralyzed her, as she hit it with a giant splash. There was no time for dawdling, as the Russian goons were starting to shoot down into the water. Mona dove under the water and started swimming, her arms and legs screaming for her to stop and take a rest. She was glad the plate was metal, and could take the water (she may or may not have damaged a Monet the same way.)

It did not take her long to reach the small beach half a mile from the mansion. Her getaway car was safely hidden three miles from the beach, but she did not dare go back to get it. She had scouted the forest beforehand, but the thugs still knew it better than her, and a fight would be fatal; fatal for her, that is. She turned north and stalked forward, through the bushes and away from the mansion.

Mona took off her mask and ran a hand through her brown hair. She took off the black jacket slowly, as not to damage her arm further, and inspected the bullet wound, if you could even call it that. The bullet had barely grazed her arm, and there was not much blood, not enough to kill her by a longshot. She had had much worst. She could wait until she reached Serverovinsk.

She did not put on the jacket again, figuring it was just as cold with one as without it. It was just past three in the afternoon, and the cold Russian air went through her soaked clothes and chilled her very core.

It had not been the best tactical move to pull a heist in the middle of the day. Maybe that was the reason it went sour as quickly as it did. She liked night, having the ability to blend in with the shadows was really a boost when you were a cat burglar, but the old bastard aka. the mob boss owning the mansion was out, and most of his staff was with him. So considering the alternative, breaching a place more well-guarded than Pentagon, she decided she could handle the absence of darkness.

She pulled off her backpack and rummaged through it, looking for something warm. It was mid-October, but in Russia, or in that particular part of Russia, did it feel like it was deep winter. Probably not, but she was wet and had just been shot at, so that should justify some exaggeration.

There was nothing to warm her, and she threw on the backpack, with an angry huff. She usually had a couple of bio warmers, but her contact had called her out of the blue, and told her she had to move now, so she hadn't had time to pack any survival gear.

Mona looked down on her wrist, at the seeming ordinary wristwatch. Well, it wasn't, not after Ben had modified it so much it could do a hell of a lot more than just telling time. He had given it to Mona the day they split up. With the little device it had become much easier doing jobs alone, which she had been grateful for. She was used to pull heists and infiltrate foreign embassies with Ben's voice in her ear, telling her where to go, where to avoid.

She pressed the screen, and the watch beeped twice. The little metal disk rose and grew, the small mechanics in the watch folding out to an almost transparent screen, two inches wide. She pressed an icon and the screen was filled with a map of the forest. It informed her that she had to walk nine miles before reaching Serverovinsk. Thank god for technology. She had no clue how they had survived in the time before satellites.

The thought of Ben and the others sent a smile to her face. They had been an incredible team, even though she did not agree with most of the missions, they'd done them anyway, together. Like good little soldiers.

She had grown up with them, in a compound hidden deep within the mountains. She had been stolen by Abstergo when she was born, just like all of the others. They were then trained, molded to become soldiers. Not normal soldiers, no, Abstergo wanted to create the perfect soldier. Working for Abstergo, she had taken out more people than she cared to remember, some of them were dictators and terrorists; that didn't bother her that much. They had been criminals, killing people for personal gain. But sometimes she had to kill ordinary people who'd just witnessed the wrong thing, or read the wrong file. In the end it had been enough, not only for Mona, but for the others too.

At Abstergo they had been taught to forget their empathy. They were soldiers and soldiers should not show emotions. The others had slowly lost their sympathy, but Mona and a handful of the others had been lucky. Every time she had to pull the trigger, she saw her friends before her eyes. The thought of them helped her keep her humanity. She and her confidants had escaped together. It had been the worst day of her life, the day they had split up, but Abstergo had closed in around them, and it would have been impossible to escape if they hadn't. That was almost two years ago, and Mona hadn't hear from any of them. They were keeping a low profile, like Mona.

You know … when she wasn't storming mansions and stealing ancient Aztec artifacts.

ÆØÅÆØÅÆØÅ

Serverovinsk was a fairly large city, and it looked like parts of it had been poured directly out of a cement mixer. Mona had no problem finding her contact; he was always hiding in the same dirty, smoke filled bar. She pushed the heavy wooden door open, and slipped inside. The bar was filled with Russians; drinking vodka like it was water. Mona had once been captured outside Moscow, and to escape she had to trick a Spetsnaz into playing a drinking game with her. It had ended with Tank having to shoot his way through, with Mona unconscious on his shoulder. After that she had promised herself she would never play a drinking game with anyone from the Russian army.

She weaved through the tables, the shouting masking her footsteps. Hell, a rhinoceros could've run through, and you wouldn't hear a thing.

Her contact did not hear her approach. She grabbed his neck, and showed his head down in a tall glass of vodka. If you were going to die, drowning in alcohol wouldn't be the worst way to go.

'Cabrón!,' she hissed, and released him. She flopped down on the chair opposite of him, and stared at the poor Colombian man, now drenched in vodka.

'Señorita, what is wrong? You got the plate, no?' Mona kicked him hard over the shin. The bar was loud and they were speaking in Spanish, but if working, no living for Abstergo had taught her one thing, it was that you were NEVER alone.

'No me jodas! I did, but there were some problems. Your information was faulty! There was at least double as many guards as you said!' He looked like he contemplated running. Mona gave him a look that said something along the lines of: "One wrong move and you'll eat out of a tube for the rest of your life."

'No Señorita, I was told there would only be fifteen guards today.'

'Well, that wasn't the case. I was shot; I had to take a fucking swan dive off the balcony. You owe me for this!' With those words Mona rose. She had not really planned on seeing her contact; she just felt the need to threaten him a bit. And it seemed like she had succeeded. He cowered at the edge of his chair, too scared to move or even look at her.

'Patético,' she spat and left the bar. The relatively clean air felt good after being engulfed in the smoke in the bar.

She walked through the streets, looking absentmindedly through the various shop windows. She was in a hurry though, and increased her pace to a slow trot. It had not been a good idea to see her contact, as the news of the theft had undoubtedly reached the city and the airports. Fortunately she did not need an airport to get out of the country. An old acquaintance of hers owed her a favor (There had been some troubles with a dead whore in Bangladesh, and Mona had helped him sneak out of the country), and he was waiting for her a little outside Arkhangelsk.

Mona casually ducked under a huge woman, and skidded down a small alleyway. She was actually feeling pretty good, despite her fatigue. The plate was hidden in her backpack, and in just an hour she would be on the way back to the states. She would have to make a stop in Canada first, to change to a plane that could not be detected by Abstergo. And then it was straight to Detroit.

She suppressed a yawn. The last train for Arkhangelsk would leave in ten minutes, and she did not want to spend another minute in Severovinsk. Renting a car was out of the questing, so she had to use public transportation.

Her clothes had not dried completely on the long walk, and the first thing she did when she arrived had been to buy a warmer jacket. She pulled up the hood and it covered her face, as she ran towards the train station.

ÆØÅÆØÅÆØÅ

The door to the office opened, and Mona slid in as quietly as humanly possible. She had successfully sneaked past the guards, not in the mood to deal with the hassle of one of her many fake IDs. The secretary did not hear the door open, and Mona stepped up to her, seeing it was the same from last time. She would recognize her.

Mona cleared her throat, and the secretary yelped, before looking up at her, a well-manicured hand pressed against her chest.

'Jesus Christ,' she gasped, and continued to stare. Mona had gone directly to the office, not giving herself time for a bath or even a change of clothes, so she no doubt looked like a mess.

The apparently slow-witted secretary continued to stare, until Mona nodded towards the microphone on the desk. The secretary jumped again, and pressed a little button on the side of the microphone.

'Mr. Shane. Ms. Smith is here.' There was a buzzing sound, and one of the doors behind her opened. Without a word Mona passed her, and went through the door. The office inside was styled in a horrific minimalistic way, all black and white, and straight lines. It reminded her of the labs at Abstergo.

Behind the huge desk sat Anthony Shane, business guru and to those who knew him; fucking bastard.

'Did you get it?' he asked eagerly. Mona had barely closed the door behind her.

'Yes,' she replied coldly, 'but not without complications. The price has just gone up.'

'Really dear?' She absolutely loathed being called dear, a thing he very well knew.

'Yes. _Really_! There were a lot more guards than I had anticipated. One of them shot me!' Grazed her, but he didn't need to know that.

'But that is _really_ not my problem, is it dear?' he was smirking at her, a smile meant for intimidating businessmen. But it took a little more than a slick bastard to scare Mona.

'Well,' she began, pacing around the room, 'if you don't throw in an extra twenty grand I'll just take my priceless artifact and sell it to someone else. I wonder how much it goes for on the black marked.' She had won, she knew it. He knew it. She hadn't been so stupid to bring the plate to the meeting. It was stored in a safe place, and only after she got her pay would Mona tell where it was.

'Do you know how hard it was to procure what you wanted? And now you want more money.' There was still a smirk on his lips. Always the business man.

'Do you know how hard it was to procure what _you_ wanted?' she snapped. All she wanted right now was a shower and a secure place to sleep.

Shane sighed and reached under the desk. Mona's hand instantly went to the gun stuck down her waistband. Shane laughed and slowly pulled a silver briefcase from under the desk.

'You want your pay, don't you?' he asked, amused. She grunted something inaudibly and relaxed.

Shane spun the briefcase around, and Mona took a step towards it. She reached for the metal clasps, opening them swiftly. Shane opened the briefcase. Inside laid a knife made from solid diamond. The blade was only three inches long, but in the hands of the right person, even the tiniest knife could be a deadly weapon. Mona touched the blade and a wicked smile spread across her face. She grabbed the shaft, made of light wood and lifted the knife. It fitted in her hand as if it had been molded for her. The knife was perfectly balanced, and she placed the top of the shaft on her fingertips, balancing the knife with ease.

'Is it to your satisfaction?' asked Shane. She smiled sweetly at him, and threw the knife up in the air. It spun, the light making the diamond blade glimmer, and she caught it expertly.

'And the money? Fifty grand wired to my account?' Some of her sass had returned with the feel of the knife in her hand.

'It will be sent shortly,' he assured with a smile. She eyed him suspiciously, and then nodded. There was no logical reason for him to swindle her, if he wanted her services in the future. He did not know who she was, but he could recognize her talent. She had a talent, and a passion. Even though she would not admit it, she loved the fights and the adrenalin. The first few months after she escaped Abstergo had been spent hiding in an Kenyan village, doing nothing but helping the villages, and reading the newspaper, scared to death she would read about one of her fellow escapees. After the first few weeks it had become boring. After the first month it had been unendurable. It did not take her long to realize she needed the danger and the bloody fights. So she had started taking jobs from rich tycoons. Getting a handsome reward for doing what she loved was just a bonus.

'The plate is in locker number 312 in Amtrak Station on Baltimore Avenue.' She threw the key to him and turned around. He started scolding her for putting a priceless artifact in a locker, but she tuned him out as she walked out the door.

ÆØÅÆØÅÆØÅ

Mona woke with a start. The alarm above her head was beeping out of control. Not missing a beat, she jumped up from the bed, and grabbed the diamond bladed knife. Her quaint little lair had been disturbed, and she was prepared to gut the intruders.

She heard whispering voices from outside the door. She had gone straight home after the meeting, to her little hideout in outer Pittsburg. It was supposed to be safe, but apparently Abstergo had found her.

She stalked over behind the door and waited for it to open. Sure enough, the door opened and a dark figure stepped inside the door. Mona wasted no time jumping forward and grapping the figure's head. She threw him down on the floor, and banged his head hard against the bedside table. There was no reason killing them. If she could subdue them, then she could question them about Abstergo in her own time.

A pair of hands wrapped loosely around her throat. It was not the hands of a killer, but that didn't stop her from acting. She threw her head back, and there was a satisfying crunch from the attackers' nose. She spun around and held her knife against the attacker's throat. She felt the front of her shirt get soaked in sticky, warm blood.

'No! No!' A shrill voice rang through the room. Mona looked at the remaining attacker, a woman by the looks of it.

'Who are you?' she barked, ready to slit her hostage's throat at any movement from the woman.

'We are enemies of Abstergo too!' she yelled. Mona growled deep in her throat. An enemy of an enemy does not equal friend. They knew Abstergo was a hell of a lot more than a pharmaceutical company, and they knew what Mona was.

'Look,' said the woman desperately, 'we need your help. Let us explain!'

Mona huffed and tightened her grip on the knife. 'You broke into my home. How do I know you're not Abstergo spies,' she spat.

'Listen,' cried the woman, near hysterics. She really didn't seem like an Abstergo spy. Maybe the guy sleeping on the floor was the muscle. The woman pulled a pendant from her black clothes. It kind of looked like one of those office appliances you use to remove paperclips with. Mona had seen it before, at Abstergo. They had shown them a list of the most wanted people. Many of them had had a symbol like that beside the name. Some of the teams had been picked to receive a special training in hunting those guys. Mona only knew snippets of what it was about, from overheard conversations and sneaked glances at secret documents. But a group hiding from Abstergo would not turn in another in hiding, to the hated corporation.

She removed her knife from the hostage's throat, and gave him a hard push. He tumbled over to stand beside his friend at the far end of the room. Mona looked at the guy on the floor. He was still knocked out from his unfortunate meeting with the bedside table.

'Speak,' she ordered harshly, her knife in hand ready for any hostile movement.

'What do you know about the Assassins?'


	2. Chapter II

Hallo! Second chapter! Mona was actually supposed to meet Connor in this chapter, but in the end I chose to save it for next time. But I promise they will meet soon! Thanks to the people who followed, favorited and reviewed. It made my day!

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Chapter II

History is just beginning

It's like leaves creating a canopy

And, woven in the tapestry, my testimony

A ceremony of souls, a symphony of sounds and forms

A cacaphony - I'll keep that energy

I'll keep that energy flowing through the whole range of me

So you can focus on the rage in me

And my obituary?

Well, I'm re-writing it every second, every century

Well, I'm re-writing it

History is just the beginning

_- History, Blue Foundation_

'So what you are telling me,' Mona said, pacing the room making sure she did not turn her back on the three intruders, 'is this war has been going on for centuries, without anyone knowing?' Not letting the woman called Samantha answer, she continued, 'You know, I don't have a hard time imagining Abstergo being a front for an ancient order, it actually makes a lot of sense now. You said they strive for control and order? Yeah, that's Abstergo alright. But … the Assassin Order? You strive for what, peace?'

Samantha opened her mouth to answer, but Mona kept going. 'But why didn't I know about this? I was raised by Abstergo, for Christ's sake! Wouldn't it be easi …'

'That was why they started the Steel project,' Samantha interrupted. The Steel project had been created during First World War, as foot soldiers made of steel, hence the name. Over time the focus shifted from warriors made for battle to spies made for covert operations. 'The Templars wanted more spies around the world, but the more people who knew about them the bigger the risk of exposure. So they created … you; soldiers and spies, who could do their bidding without the danger of the world fining out their real agenda.' Mona did not think that would be a problem. At Abstergo they had been trained to endure months of torture, without leaking any information.

'So …' Mona tried to collect her thoughts, whilst keeping an eye on the man on the floor. He was beginning to stir; a small, painful groan escaped him. The other man had backed into a corner, tending to his broken nose without a word. That was Mona grateful for. Dealing with this new information, all the while making sure no one would attack her was almost enough to make her want to scream. 'You're all Assassins, fighting Abstergo – or the Templars, who want nothing but world domination.'

'Well.' Samantha looked over at her friend in the corner. 'We're not … Jackson, the one you knocked out. He's an Assassin. We're just technicians.' That made sense. Neither Samantha nor her friend gave the vibe of a skilled killer.

'You said you needed my help. Why? I'm a former Abstergo spy. I admire your cause, I really do, but considering I don't know anything about the Templars or the Assassins I can't see how I can help.'

'It's a long story. If you agree to help us, I'll explain on the way.'

_Long story? Then what was this?_ Mona thought, looking out the window for a split second. The sun had risen from the horizon, and the birds were chirping.

Jackson on the floor started coughing. He rose very slowly, pressing a hand to his temple. The blood had partly dried on his face, making it look like he was wearing a grisly mask. 'How long was I out?' he asked, directing his question at Samantha. Mona answered for her.

'Almost two hours. Really knocked you out.' She could not keep the acidic tone out of her voice. Good thing it had been him and not Samantha who had been knocked out. Mona might not have found Jackson as believable as the woman.

'Where's my weapons!' he hissed, looking at her with dark eyes.

Mona nodded to the gun and two wicked looking knives she had taken from him as soon as Samantha had begun her story. 'You'll get them back as soon I'm sure you won't shoot me,' she said sweetly. She tried her best to aggravate him, to observe his reaction. Something about the man unnerved her. It could just be the fact that he had broken into her home armed to the teeth. The other two didn't carry anything, except a small knife Mona had snatched from Samantha's friend.

'If you come with us I promise it'll be worth your time. You might help us close down Abstergo forever.' Samantha looked at her with big eyes. She reminded Mona of Kat. They could both pull the most innocent, believable look.

The thought of taking down Abstergo was very tempting. Mona would not have to watch her back every waking moment. And she could be reunited with the others again.

'What do you mean? How?'

'There is a train waiting for us going to New York. I promise I'll explain on the way,' Samantha said sounding hopeful.

'What'll happen if I don't go with you?' Mona asked slowly.

'You'll probably be captured by Abstergo at some point, and either killed or sent to a North Korean prison camp. And your little friends will be hunted down like animals,' said Jackson bluntly. Mona looked at him with cold eyes. Samantha had told her how the Assassins had hacked into Abstergo's database, and read all about the Steel project, and how Mona and the others had deserted.

'What will I need to bring?' Mona asked, with an air of resignation. A triumphant smile spread across Samantha's lips. She seemed to be the only one even remotely comfortable with the situation.

'You will probably be gone for a long time. So weapons, and whatever you usually bring on an assignment, but no clothes. We er … already got something for you to wear.' That sounded very suspicious, but since Mona hadn't gotten any information about the mission, she was not in a position to be distrustful. Maybe it was in the Middle East, and she had to wear a burqa. That would actually be preferable; it was easy hiding your identity, when the only thing visible was the eyes.

Mona nodded and grabbed a knife sheath from beside the bed, and clipped it to one of the belt hoops in her pants. After a couple of seconds of consideration she sheathed the diamond knife, and grabbed her gun from under the mattress, which she hid in the waistband of her pants. Mona had never been one of those persons hiding weapons everywhere around her person and house. She figured if she couldn't get to the trusty weapons she already had, she would have no chance getting the gun in the fruit bowl. It was enough with her knife, her gun and the slim blade hidden in her boot, perfect for throwing.

She picked Jackson's weapons up, and walked up to him. He was a good foot taller than her, so trying to intimidate him was out of the question. Mona had found out that unless you were a muscle bundle, it was almost impossible intimidating someone taller than you. So instead she went for another tactic, the cold, calculating bitch.

'Here,' she said, giving him the weapons. He took them without saying a word. 'But don't go and do anything rash now. We wouldn't want you to hit your head again.' He growled and Mona stepped back, slowly, to show him she wasn't scared of him.

Seeing she was done packing her things, the three uninvited guests walked out of the room, Mona following close behind. The man with the broken nose, the only one who hadn't said anything stopped and looked at the bookcase pushed up against the wall.

'Voltaire, Nietzche, Aristotle. Heavy stuff.' He looked at Mona with bloodshot eyes. His voice was very gentle. She almost felt bad for breaking his nose.

'After I abandoned Abstergo I started reading all the works of the big philosophers. You can imagine the history lessons Abstergo provided was pretty faulty.' The only reason Mona had not been brain washed was because of Ben. Abstergo had always had problems finding hackers. It wasn't enough being tech savvy, you had to be a genius and it was impossible knowing who would grow into being the next Einstein. So Abstergo held annually competitions, where only the brightest kids would be accepted into a special _program_ where they could develop their skills. When Mona first met Ben, they were both seven years old, and Ben had been extremely clever for a kid his age. They had spent many nights, with the other kids, huddled under a blanket in the dorm, listening to Ben telling them about the outside world. When they were fifteen, someone had somehow procured an old fifth grade history book, and everyone had helped keeping it hidden.

'We need to hurry,' said Jackson in a curt voice. He stepped outside the small house, and walked through the unkept garden. Mona was the last one out of the house. She locked it with a silver key, and pocketed it, wondering when she would be back. It didn't bother her that much, leaving. She was used to travel from place to place. It was not the only safe house she had in the country, but it was the one where she felt the most at home. She had actually decorated, instead of just a mattress and a fridge.

'When'll we arrive in New York?' asked the man whose name Mona still did not know.

Samantha looked at her wristwatch. 'In seven hours' time, I reckon. We got a whole compartment booked, so there will be no one to overhear the details of the assignment.'

Mona nodded silently. She felt a little drained after the long night, and wondered when she would sleep again.

ÆØÅÆØÅÆØÅ

They were all sitting in the first class cart, waiting for Samantha to find some documents in her bag. The man Mona had learned was called Jones was gingerly pressing an ice cube, wrapped in a rag against his nose. Jackson was cleaning the wound on his forehead, all the while glaring at Mona with a scowl on his face. He clearly didn't appreciate being knocked out, and the fact she was a woman was just salt in the wound.

'Here it is,' Samantha said, and in her hand she held leather bound journal. Mona idly wondered how it could fit in her tiny bag. 'I don't suppose you know anything about the Pieces of Eden?' Mona shook her head silently. 'They are artifacts left from an ancient civilization, technology we can't even begin to understand. You know all the old stories about miracles? Most of them are true, but not because of Gods mercy, or any of that. The staff Moses used to part the sea was actually a Piece of Eden.' Seeing Mona's disbelieving look she stopped talking, and gave her the journal.

It took Mona two hours reading the book cover to cover. When she was done she gave it back, without saying a word, her lips pressed together. Very slowly she shook her head.

'It doesn't make sense,' she mumbled, leaning back in her chair.

Jackson looked at her. 'Really? It did to me the first time I read it.'

'Yeah, that's what doesn't make sense. Why do I believe it? I mean it's pretty farfetched.' She laughed shakily, and fiddled with her short hair. Her face looked relatively calm, but her thoughts were caught in a maelstrom. She did not want to believe what she had just read, but it was like something in the words was _imprinted_ with the truth.

'But what … what do you want me to do? I think this is little out of my league. And time.'

Samantha suddenly smiled, and Mona wasn't sure she liked the look in her eyes. 'Well … you're not exactly out of time. You see, three of the known Pieces of Eden can control time. Abstergo got one, one is hidden and we got the last. With the help from Abstergo we were able to create a way to send people through time.'

'So you created a time machine?' Mona said without lifting an eyebrow. After this nothing could surprise her.

'Yes, a time machine. So, two weeks ago our spy stationed inside Abstergo told us they had recently send someone through time, called AB5283.' Mona looked up at her. She knew him well, grown up together at Abstergo. 'They are going to retrieve another Piece of Eden. We can't let that happen.'

Mona knew where this was going. 'But why do you need me? You're Assassins!'

'Yes, but who would be better to fight against an Abstergo spy than a former Abstergo spy.'

'This Piece of Eden, what is it? What does it do?'

Samantha looked a little uncomfortable. 'We don't know. All we know is Abstergo want it enough to send someone over two hundred years back in time to get it. We need to get it before them, if only to destroy it.'

'So when exactly are you going to send me back to?' Mona asked.

'You're gonna do it then?' Jones piped up, looking at Mona with hopeful eyes. Mona had almost forgotten he was there.

'Yes, I have to, haven't I? If this is a way for Abstergo to obtain more power … I have to stop them.'

'You'll be sent back to 1779. Smack down in the American Revolutionary War. How much do you know about it?'

Mona shrugged. 'Patriots won. Washington saved the day and Boston harbor was transformed into the world's biggest teacup.'

'That is correct, although a lot more happened during that time. I got this,' Samantha said, and found another book. This one was bigger and shinier. "The American Revolution" was written on the cover, in big letters. 'Just skim it,' she said as she handed it to Mona.

'What happens if I accidentally intervene in some big event that is supposed to happen? Say I kill someone who's going to be the father of a future US president.'

'Yes, that is one of the risks.'

'A pretty damn big risk if you ask me.'

'Look, just don't kill anyone. And don't participate in _any _form of battle.' She shot Mona a stern look to make sure she understood. 'I mean it. If anyone asks of your opinion, give the vaguest possible answer. Even though you know who'll win, you can't help.'

'I understand,' said Mona, and opened the book at the first page. She'd better start reading now, when there was still time.

ÆØÅÆØÅÆØÅ

They rode the lift down in silence. Mona found it incredibly odd that an Assassin hideout would be in the basement of a shopping mall, but Jones had assured her that it was the safest place. The service lift was big, and there was enough room for Samantha to pace back and forth.

'You don't like lifts,' said Mona, as she watched Samantha grip the fabric of her shirt.

'No, I really, really don't,' she answered. Two seconds later the door opened and Samantha was the first out, panting like she had just run for miles.

Jackson went down the long hall. He stopped in front of a door with a keypad on the right side. He punched in a long pin code, and it opened with a pneumatic whisling. It was way too much security for a shopping mall.

Inside was dark, but as soon as Jackson's feet touched the floor the lights went on. It was a big room, and the walls were covered in computer screens. In the corner stood a machine Mona had seen at Abstergo many times. It looked like a lying chair, with a screen you could flip in front of the face. She had forgotten what it was called. In the middle was another machine. It looked like a solarium with its top down. It was made of white material, with a pulsing, blue light. She figured that was the thing supposed to bring her back in time.

'What am I going to bring with me? And what am I supposed to wear?' asked Mona, and turned around. She remembered pictures of the long dresses in the book, and it dawned on her that she might have to wear one of the restricting things.

'We got that covered,' said Samantha, and grabbed a plastic bag hidden behind the door. 'But you can't bring your weapons. There is no way of telling what will happen if a seventeenth century soldier got a hold of your semi-automatic.' That made sense, even though it pained Mona to part with her gun. 'But you can keep the knife. And oh, I almost forgot. Jones, the money.' Jones nodded, and started rummaging through some boxes. Out he pulled a sack made of coarse linen.

'This should be sufficient enough to make it through your stay,' he said, handing the sack to Mona. It was quite heavy, and she quickly put it down by her feet.

'So … you're just going to send me back to 1779 and hope I stumble over the Piece of Eden?' Mona asked looking through the bag with clothes, relieved to see trousers and not a dress.

'No. We have some pretty good intel about the location of the Piece of Eden, whatever it is, up until the 18 of November. So we're gonna send you to the 4th. Gives you time to find it. It's all in this letter.' This time it was Jackson who spoke. He found a letter from his inner pocket, and gave it to Mona. She started to feel rather like a mule.

'Okay. Is that all?' She asked.

'Yep. You can go and change back there,' said Samantha, and pointed to a cluster of computer screens. Mona took the plastic bag with clothes, and went up behind the screens. She changed quickly, and emerged a couple of minutes later.

Mona was wearing a long, white shirt tugged down her dark brown pants, which were made of itchy linen. She wore a waistcoat, this one in a dark green color, faded with age. On her feet she wore leather boots, laced up to her mid-calf and around her neck a scarf of the same green color as the waistcoat. Over her arm she had draped a dark grey, heavy cloak. All the clothes were of good quality, and they all looked old. It must've taken ages to make.

'Perfect,' exclaimed Samantha. She stepped up to Mona. 'Now. I need some of your blood. Just a little prick. Then we can start readying the machine.' She grabbed Mona's hand, and before she could say anything, Samantha pressed a small needle against her finger. It only lasted a couple of seconds, and Mona barely felt it. Samantha then grabbed a leather belt from a table, and strapped it around Mona's hips. Pouches for money and other things she might need were bound to it. She strapped her knife to it, a place where it was hidden by the waistcoat. 'So. You'll stick out, it's not usual to see a woman will wearing mens clothes, but at least you fit in the time period.'

'It'll take around half an hour to ready the machine. So just sit tight,' said Jones from over the computer screens. He was already typing furiously at a keyboard. Samantha joined him, and started making her own calculations.

Mona sat down on a crate in the corner, and watched the machine in the middle of the room.

'So how did you get them?' Jackson stood by the door, looking at her with emotionless eyes.

She instantly knew what he talked about. She lifted her hand a brushed the fingertips over her left cheek, feeling the scars. 'I was in Libya when the Arab Spring hit; stood too close to a bomb.' The entire right side of her face was covered in thin, but very noticeable, white scars. Abstergo technology had saved both her sight and hearing, but they could only do so much with her marred skin. Mona didn't mind it that much; it was a small price to pay for her hearing. But it had put a stop to missions where she had to hide in plain sight. They had healed nicely, but people noticed a woman with a face covered in scars. Now she was reduced to creeping in the shadows, or taking down her target from 800 yards.

Jackson didn't reply, but simply huffed.

After forty-five minutes Jones looked up from the screens. 'We're ready,' he said breathlessly.

Mona nodded and rose from the crate, grabbing the sack of money. She stepped up to the machine and looked at it, a pained look on her face. How long would she be gone? Three weeks? Three years? Would she be able to return?

'How do I get back?' she asked, and turned around to look at Jones.

'You get this,' he answered, and gave her a little, black device, with a simple button protected by white plastic, 'whenever you're ready to go home, after you've found the Piece of Eden and hidden it, you press the button.'

'And then I'll just magically pop back to my own time?' she asked disbelieving.

'Well …' he exchanged an uncomfortable look with Samantha, who had started to shuffle her feet on the floor, 'we don't know how it will work, as we've never tried it out. Maybe you'll be pulled back immediately. Maybe it happens months after you press the button … maybe it never happens.'

Mona swallowed lump in her throat. There was the possibility of her never returning to her own time. She suddenly felt very tired.

'Okay. Then I'll just have to live in the eighteenth century for the rest of my life,' she mumbled, soldiering up. She couldn't get cold feet now.

'Just … lie down and close your eyes. It's over before you know it,' Samantha said gently. She guided Mona over to the machine, and opened the cover. It really did look like a modified solarium.

Mona lied down on the warm metal. It was pulsing with an unnatural blue light, and it reminded Mona of the machines at Abstergo. She swallowed another lump, and closed her eyes. Above her Samantha closed the top.

There was a couple of second of silence. Then the machine began to hum. It was barely noticeable in the beginning, but picked up pace. Eventually the whole machine was vibrating.

Without warning it felt like Mona was being ripped apart. She opened her mouth and started screaming a loud, ragged scream, her mind begging them to stop, to stop the machine and let her out. She could not feel the machine under her, or even her own body. She clutched the sack of money with hand she didn't possess, and she kept screaming with a mouth she didn't have, all the while falling down and down and down. She was sure if she'd opened her eyes she would see herself falling straight down into hell.

Suddenly it all stopped. She heard birds and felt the sun on her face. Then she opened her eyes.

ÆØÅÆØÅÆØÅ

Mona stood up and looked around at the snow covered trees. A minute ago she had been standing underneath a shopping mall. Now she was standing in the forest. Her brain had a hard time catching up. This wasn't supposed to be possible.

She slowly turned on the spot with wide eyes. The sack of money and cloak lay abandoned by her feet. This was too _unreal_!

After a good ten minutes of staring at her surroundings, she pulled herself out of her stupor. It was not the time to go into chock.

The air bit at her arms. It was - hopefully - the 4th of November, and very, very cold. She grabbed the cloak and put it on. There was a long hood, and when she pulled it up it almost hid her face in the shadows.

Mona heard faint voices coming from her right. Biting her lips she picked up the sack of money, and hid it as best she could under the cloak. She started walking towards the voices, hoping to find someone who could help her find New York.

She didn't have to walk long. Soon the trees dropped away, and Mona stood on a dirt road. The voices came from a carriage carrying various barrels. A young man, presumably an apprentice of some sort, walked on the ground, whilst an older man sat in the carriage holding the reins to the horses.

Mona stopped dead in her tracks, and drew in a breath. She had to ask them for directions for New York.

'Sirs … sirs!' she yelled and started running awkwardly after them, struggling to get a better hold of the moneybag under her cloak. Both men turned around to look at her, evidently surprised to see a woman alone on the roads dressed in mens' clothing. Mona grabbed the hem of the hood, and pulled it further down her face, to hide the scars. 'Can you possibly point me in the direction of New York? Please?' she added. It never hurt being extra polite.

'Yeh miss. 'S about half a day's travel from here. We're going there, n'fact,' said the older man on the carriage. He seemed a bit drunk. 'Yew can follow us, misses.'

'Thank you so much kind sir,' Mona said uneasily.

'Wha' brings a lady like yusself to New York?' the drunken carriage driver asked.

'My fiancé is there, waiting for me,' answered Mona quickly. She figured it was best to pretend she was doing something lady-like like getting married, to make up for her manly clothes.

'Ish he one of them Redcoats? 'E better not be, orrels yer goin' to loose yer man. It's only a matter of time 'fore the Patriots take the city.' Mona smiled noncommittally up at the man, taking care not to show too much of her face. It was going to be a long walk.


	3. Chapter III

Heeere's the next chapter. Sorry it took so long; vacation and other summer stuff took up a lot of my time. Read and review please.

I accidentally uploaded the wrong file, the chapter before it was edited. Here is the real, edited chapter.

* * *

Chapter III

Come one, come all

You're just in time to witness my first breakdown

'Cause there's a mile gone every minute passed

When I'm stuck in this town.

_- Come one come all, All Time Low_

Mona sat on the bed, practically seething. The_ idiots_ had not sent her back to the 4th but the 16th instead. It would not have been such a big problem if she had had access to the same resources she had at home, or knowledge of the city. At least they had sent her to the right year. She did not know what she would do if she had to live in the Renaissance.

The letter Jackson had given her was lying by her feet. It had been very vague to say the least. It had told her that the Piece of Eden – whatever it was – was in the possession of the governor of New York. She would have to steal it from him, before he sold it to an unknown. Possibly Abstergo.

That would also not have posed as a problem, if she just had access to any modern technology.

The first thing Mona had done, when the intoxicated carriage driver had told her it was in fact NOT the 4th, was to find a cheap inn. She rented a room and had just finished unpacking her sparse possessions.

The bed was undersized and lumpy. In the corner stood a small wardrobe that seemed to suck all the natural light out of the room; by the window stood a writing bureau, with a secret drawer with just enough room to hide her money. Luckily there was enough money to last for at least a couple of months. Possibly longer, if Mona had learned one thing it was that she could survive anywhere on no costs whatsoever.

She had to stake out the governor's residence. Shit, she only had two days left before whatever-it-was would be sold, and then it would be a pain to track down.

Mona drew in a breath, and held it for a couple of seconds. Then she stood up and grabbed a handful of coins from the money sack, retrieved the now dusty cloak from the floor and rushed out of the door.

'Excuse me mister.' The owner of the inn looked at her over the disk. You could practically feel the mistrust radiate off of him. It had been hard enough convincing him to let her stay, a lone woman stalking around an inn sends a very particular message. Nevertheless, he finally let her stay after she had given him a couple of extra coins. That was the good thing, living in a place like this. The residents would do a lot just to earn a little extra.

'Yes?' he grumbled. Everyone was so friendly here. Note the sarcasm.

'Can you tell me where I can find the governor's residence?' Mona tried to say in her most pleasant voice. It was hard, travelling back 200 years to the wrong date, and the prospect of being stuck there for the rest of your life did not do wonders for your mood.

'Why?' he asked harshly. Mona could barely hold a scowl from her face. He may think she was a whore, but she was still a paying customer.

'I have some business with him.' Her voice had lost its pleasantness.

'He got 'imself a mansion on Philchurch Passage. Dun't want to talk to nobody, though.' Mona wondered where Philchurch Passage was. She had only been in New York a couple of times, and that was in her own time.

'Thank you,' she said with false politeness, and hurried out the door. She pulled the cloak closer around her, and lifted the hood up to hide her face.

When she first walked through New York she had been preoccupied by the notion that she did not travel back far enough, and she hadn't paid much attention to her surroundings. Only what was required to be sure there were no threats.

Now she stopped and took the time to soak up the city bustling around her. It was near twilight, and people were hurrying home, or trying to close up shop as fast as possible. The inn was located in the outskirts of the city, in a poor area. Mona could see a group of orphans standing in a huddle, possibly plotting to steal some bread from the nearby baker.

First thing first; she needed to get to the center of the city. Mona did not know where Philchurch Passage was, but she knew the honorable governor did not live in such a dirt-poor area.

Mona started walking down the street, expertly avoiding the mud and the horse excrement littering the street. It did not smell as bad as Mona had thought. But then, maybe that was because she spent two months in a slum in Dubai, looking for a fugitive. If that experience didn't kill your sense of smell nothing would.

As she walked she noticed how it changed from smaller, badly built shacks to bigger, sturdier houses. It was still poor, at least seen from a 21-century point of view. It still smelled like piss and sickness, but it was not as pervasive as before.

Darkness had fallen over the streets when Mona finally stopped. She did not know where she was, only that this was a very rich neighborhood. She felt slightly out of place in her already dirty clothes.

'Excuse me Mr.' she walked up to one of the well dressed men, who did not seem to be in a hurry tonight.

He looked surprised to be approached by a woman, in man's clothing. 'Yes,' he said, sounding friendly enough, even though he tensed up when he saw her marred face.

'Can you tell me how I can find Philchurch Passage?' she asked, a little annoyed she had to rely on others all the time.

'I sure can, but miss … is it not a little late for a woman to be out on her own?'

_I swear to God, if anyone asks me that question I'm gonna start slitting throats!_ Evidently she couldn't keep her emotions from her face, because the man took a small step back.

'Keep going up the street, and turn left the second time.' He eyed the approaching guards walking down the street. Mona took that as her cue to get away, and she quickly turned around and walked down the street. Behind her she could hear the man talking to the red dressed guards.

'Brits,' she mumbled as she pulled the hood further down her face.

The house was easy to find. It was big and white – and to be frank – really ugly. It screamed pretentious, rich bastard. It was also heavily guarded. A bunch of redcoats (Mona had picked up the term on her stroll through the city) were guarding the front door. On the roof nearby stood two other guards, each with their own musket.

Mona sighed and shook her head. She would have a hard time sneaking into that house, without killing anyone that is, but it was possible. She decided she would return the next day, to finish her plan. Now she desperately needed to sleep.

Turning around she headed back to the inn, feeling the fatigue growing with every footstep.

ÆØÅÆØÅÆØÅ

_This is something I'm good at, _Mona thought rather content, as she sat hidden in the shadows. For the better part of five hours, she had sat completely still, watching the house. After she had gotten back to the inn she had gone up and slept well through the morning. Normally she would rise just before sunset, but she really needed the rest.

And now all that was left was waiting for the nightfall to execute her genius plan. It was surprisingly simple actually; first she would eliminate the two guards on the nearby rooftop, and by eliminate she means knock out. Stupid no-killing rule.

After they had been neutralized, one of the sides of the house was exposed. For some reason there were no patrolling guards, and that would be their undoing. It would be easy for Mona to slip in through a window.

It wasn't as cold today and the adrenalin of the approaching break in, made Mona's body feel warm and tingling. She imagined this was like falling in love, just better, because here she did not have to deal with the aftermath of emotions. Mona did not particularly like emotions; they were too much of a bother to be really useful. The only people she really loved were her old teammates. And it was possible she would never see them again.

A man passed her hiding place, lighting the streetlamps as he went. Mona figured it was now or never. She slowly crept forward, and staying in the shadows, headed for the ladder, standing against the house with the guards on the roof. She hoped no one would see her, as she quickly and silently climbed.

The two guards stood with their backs facing her. They were both dressed in red, and had a musket resting on their shoulders. It looked sharp and dangerous.

It was not the first time she had had to subdue two hostile guards at once, but normally she was laying 500 yards away, with a sniper rifle.

Luckily she came prepared. With the ease and practice of someone who has done it a million times, she grabbed the barrel of one of the muskets, and yanked it away from the guard. Before any of them could react, Mona had swung the weapon, and it collided with the unarmed guard's temple. The other fumbled with his musket, his mouth opened but luckily he was too stunned to say anything. Mona swung the musket again, and hit him square in the jaw. He groaned when he hit the ground, clearly not out cold. Lightning quick Mona smashed the musket down on his face. She heard his nose break, and blood gushed out, soaking the man and Mona's boots.

She tied both of the guards together, and gagged them. Once she was stealing some confidential documents from a law firm, and the guard she had knocked out, but not bound, had showed up and a chase much like the one from the Russian Mob boss' mansion had ensued.

Mona readied herself for the break in. She was about to turn around and climb down the ladder, when she saw a shadow cross the street. The man, for it was clearly a man, moved lithely along the wall. Mona knew who he was. It was AB5283, here to steal the Piece of Eden, just as she was.

It only took 4 seconds for Mona to be back on the ground again. She sprinted to the house, throwing caution to the wind. She would rather be spotted by one of the guards, than risk the Piece of Eden being stolen by Abstergo.

AB5283 had disappeared through a small window by the end of the wall. Mona reached it, and ducked as a servant passed it slowly. She cursed under her breath, and waited until he was gone before climbing inside. The room she stood in was large and bright. It took a lot of willpower not to stop and admire the many paintings adorning the wall. It was the first time Mona had been inside a house - in this time - that was not falling in on itself.

Somewhere, someone screamed. Mona's body moved by its own accord, and she raced out of the room, into a grandiose hallway. Her feet were muffled under the thick rug, as she ran to the grand stairs. A horrified maid was all but tumbling down the stairs, screaming something about a thief. She didn't even notice Mona in her state of distress. The latter did not waste any time jumping up the stairs. In front of her a door stood ajar, and she could hear movement behind it. Without slowing she burst through, and got ready to jump anyone in front of her.

What she saw inside was not what she had expected. AB5283 stood in the middle of the room, she could recognize him anywhere; his face still looked like it has been worked over with a small but efficient hammer. He was standing opposite a second intruder. She knew he was an intruder, his whole appearance stuck out like a sore thumb, and he had turned the entire room upside down; plus he was holding what appeared to be exactly was she was after, the Piece of Eden. She assumed that was what he was holding, it was covered with a cloth, but a blue light was pulsating between the folds.

'Give it back!' ordered AB5283, another indicator that the third thief was not associated with the Abstergo spy. The latter looked disinterested, or at least Mona thought so; his face was hidden behind a black hood. He backed up to an open window, and without further ado, fell backwards through it.

AB5283 turned around and looked at Mona for the first time. A quiet, dangerous growl escaped his lips, he clearly remembered her, and knew how she had abandoned Abstergo. Had Mona not had other thoughts on her mind, she would have feared for her life, but thieving, black-clad strangers took priority. Luckily for her, AB5283 though so too, as he followed the thief out of the window. Mona would have been hot on their heels, had it not been for the three guards who stumbled through the door behind her. It looked really bad. Between the screams of intruders in the house, and the room that looked like it had been ransacked, it wouldn't surprise Mona if she was hanged the very next day.

Mona did what any sensible person would do, when they stood in front of someone very capable of tearing your insides out: she ran. The window was the fastest way out, and even though the thief and AB5283 were long gone it was her best chance of escaping with every limb intact.

As soon as she hit the ground, she was running. It did not matter where; she just had to get away from the guns and pointy muskets. She took the street going north, for the sole reason that it was more deserted than the others were.

Running for your life does not give you a lot of time to contemplate, but she wondered vaguely where all the guards were coming from. The street behind her was swimming in red, and she knew she was being followed on the rooftops as well.

Squeezing through a hole in a fence, she found herself in an overgrown backyard. A single hen was peacefully scratching the frozen ground. The serenity was shattered as Mona stomped through the grass, desperate to find a hiding place. The guards behind her had trouble fitting through the hole in the fence, but that only bought her a couple of seconds.

She spotted an old, broken-down well in the middle of the backyard. Not giving it a second thought, because if she did she would have realized it was a bad idea, she flung herself down the well, the only thing keeping her from pluming down in the dark, was an old, frayed robe, which used to hold the bucket.

Mona closed her eyes and prayed to the gods, or first civilization, or whatever supernatural being out there, to save her from an untimely and inconvenient death.

Someone out there heard her. Not before she had stopped swinging from side to side, she heard the guards run past the well, shouting something about the other entrance. Mona had half a mind to stay in the well for a while, maybe weep a little bit, but she knew she had to get back to the inn, to recuperate and plan the next move.

Climbing out of the well was harder than it looked. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she was running to the exit of the backyard. The hole was harder to squeeze through this time, when she did not have a battalion of soldiers on her heels.

Carefully, so she would not attract attention, Mona skipped over the virtually empty street, and into a passageway. Somehow, she had found back to the poor part of town; or maybe another part of town, she was not sure.

Something hard poked her back. Years and years of being in constant danger of attacks by people with various pointy things, she did what came naturally to her, or partially naturally: she ran again. Normally she would have turned around and beat the living daylights out of whoever wielded the pointy thing, but not knowing how many there were, she took the less bloody approach.

For the second time that day, she was running through the streets of 1779 New York. Judging from the footsteps behind her she only had one pursuer.

She rounded a corner and ran into a wall; at least it felt like a wall, granted a wall was not usually covered in fabric. She did not fall, but the time it took her to regain balance, the pursuer had caught up with her. He almost ran her through with his musket.

'Stop you two!' the guard yelled. Mona winced as his voice echoed down the alley. The owner of the back she ran into turned around. The guard paled visibly. Mona did not blame him: the man was tall, and extremely muscular. His face was hidden behind a white hood, but his dark eyes were still visible. They looked, for the lack of a better word, dangerous. It was clear this was not a person to get in the way of; and if the eyes did not give it away, the numerous weapons that hung from his hips did.

With one swift movement, he stood beside the guard, and – without pausing – slid a blade between his ribs, piercing the heart. The guard fell soundlessly to the ground.

The man then gave Mona his full attention. She felt the intensity radiating off him, and she felt it exceedingly disturbing. For someone who was used to hide in the shadow, having someone analyzing you like that was highly uncomfortable. She unconsciously pulled the hood farther down her face.

'Thank you,' she said in a steady voice. It would not do to show weakness, if he was going to attack her.

It looked like he was going to answer, when they heard commotion at the exit of the alley. A loud, crisp voice broke through the air.

'There she is! Thief! Murderer!' as if one being, both Mona and the man started running. She figured she would follow him, he seemed like he knew the area fairly well. Mona wondered why they were calling her a murderer. She had not seen any dead bodies in the mansion, but that did not mean there were not any. It would not surprise her if she had been framed for a murder she actually did not commit for a change.

The chase that ensued were like the others. Blurring houses, shouting voices and the occasional musket that went off, fortunately missing its moving targets. The only thing different was this time she had someone to follow, and did not feel like she was stumbling around in the dark.

The white clad man turned a corner and entered a backyard, much like the one Mona used to escape her first batch of guards. The man clearly knew where he was going, for instead of heading to the exit he strode to what looked like a cellar door. He opened one of the flaps and jumped down in the darkness. Mona did not give him any chance to close it, before she followed, almost pushing him down the stairs.

They were now surrounded in complete darkness after the door was closed. Not long from them a lantern burned merrily. The cramped entrance opened up to a bigger room. It was dusty, but footprints in the dirt showed it was frequently used. Mona assumed the tunnels were created for smugglers or the likes. Beyond the room an endless tunnel of darkness continued.

'Who are you?' A voice behind her asked. It sounded gentle, surprising coming from such a mountain of a man. He spoke slowly, as if he was weighing every word before he said them, and he had a peculiar accent. He was descending the steps slowly, looking Mona up and down, and clearly weighing her as an opponent.

'I'm nobody. But thank you for helping me. I will … just be off then.' She had moved to the middle of the room, if the man had chosen to attack, she would need a lot of space to maneuver around, but now she realized that had been a bad idea. Now she had to pass him to get out again. She would rather take her chance with the guards, than this strange man.

As she passed him, he grabbed her arm. It was like iron clasps. Without a second thought, she pulled her diamond knife out of its sheath. The man did not take the action well, why would he, there is not really a friendly way to draw your weapon.

He procured a blade in his hand, so fast it had to have been on some kind of spring. It would have been curious, had he not been using said blade to attempt to slit Mona's throat.

With great exertion, she pulled herself free, and stumbled back into the room. The man followed like a white ghost. He moved silently, swiftly, like a wolf.

Mona leaped to her feet, and – with a firm grasp on the knife – she tried to get behind him and server his spinal cord. She had not taken more than two steps before she had to duck from a blade that would otherwise have given her an extra hole to breathe through; she realized there would be none of that easy stuff. She had to up her game, if she did not want to turn up dead.

As they fought, Mona realized that the man did not resemble a wolf. He was a wolf, a savage beast with lightning quick reflexes. Mona's confidence in her fighting prowess began to dwindle, as it became harder and harder to avoid the blade.

The man grabbed her arm, and flung her around; luckily for her she landed on the stairs up to the cellar door. Taking a chance, she sprang up and out of the doors. He did not follow her.


End file.
